You morons who watch videos on your phone at full volume in public have got to go. 

Be it an overrated/overpriced restaurant tied to a television show or a greasy spoon crawling with unissued warrants and cockroaches the size of lawnmowers, at least one customer will be watching a TikTok video about a dog who processes tax returns for the homeless at full blast. Emily Post would have a seizure just trying to make it through an appetizer.

I recently had a run in with a phone blarer at a legendary Kinston eatery. I sat all the way in the back to avoid the great unwashed, hoping to get through one meal without feeling the urge to reenact the cornfield scene from Goodfellas. The knuckle-dragger in question plopped himself down (these cork heads always plop; sitting down like a person is now reserved for the cotillion set), and before his considerable backside made contact with the booth he whipped out his phone and turned it up to 11.

He started watching a sports arguing podcast on YouTube. Anyone want to place a bet on whether or not he turned the phone down when the waitress came over to take his order? Not only did he not turn it down, he turned it up so he didn’t miss any of the sports yelling while the server took his order.

After a couple of minutes I started giving the guy my best “c’mon dude” look. He’d occasionally look at me with the cold dead stare of a Dollar Tree knockoff Ken doll . Not having enough disposable income to pay for the litigation that would result from me inserting the guy’s phone where God and everyone knows it should go, I decided to watch a video on my phone at full blast.

I found a clip of Richard Pryor telling his famous Mudbone routine and cranked it up. Knuckle Man momentarily stopped watching his sports yelling show to look at me as if I’d poured White Out in his coffee. I gave him a Wink Martindale smile and a double-pump thumbs up and continued listening to Richard tell the tale of Cross-eyed Junior and his girlfriend who loved collards.

A few minutes later, Knuckle Man rolled his eyes and muted his phone. My first thought was to let Richard Pryor finish his story, but since I somehow broke through the 12 inches of concrete encasing this guy’s Temu-quality brain, I turned my phone off. For the next 15 minutes, we both ate our eggs in peace. It was a temporary victory, as I’m sure he’d be interrupting a eulogy with a video of a baby talking like Darth Vader by the end of the week. But a win is a win.

If you or someone you know is a moron that blasts their phone in restaurants, grocery stores, funeral homes, or surgical theaters, there is help. Call 1-800-JACKASS to speak to an operator who will advise you on how to safely remove your head from your colon. 

Jon Dawson’s books are available at www.JonDawson.com

All music available for purchase at www.343Collective.com